I never met Kevin Slater, but he was a good friend, and a huge inspiration to me and many others. Kevin was left a quadriplegic after suffering a spinal cord injury during a wrestling match in high school. He struggled through a tough period when he almost gave up. But he triumphed, and resolved to live life as fully as he could.
Kevin became an artist -- a "mouth painter." I have seen many physically handicapped artists who paint this way, but Kevin was different: he painted in watercolor. The vast majority of mouth painters work in oil, as it's too difficult to control a wet medium. I don't know how he did it. And he was really good. I tried to paint watercolor holding the brush in my mouth to see whats it's like, and it was impossible.
In 2004 we crossed paths on an art website where he was known as "Strider." Pretty soon we became friends, and I used to call him at his house in Indiana to talk about painting, music, and anything else that came to mind. I cherished those conversations, and always came away from them revitalized. He was into guitar music, and I sent him a CD of mine.
In 2007 he was approached by a company that offered to buy his paintings. Kevin would have an income, and part of the proceeds would go to a foundation that supports people in his situation. He was really excited about it, and so was I. Unfortunately, just as this was happening, he was afflicted with a serious lung ailment and ended up in the hospital. The next couple of months were a roller coaster of procedures, gains, setbacks, emotions, and ultimately, heartbreak. When I called him in his hospital room, he couldn't speak, only listen. It was my intention to travel to Elkhart to visit him, as some other friends did. Before I could do so, Kevin died on July 17.
I drove out there a few days later to play at the funeral, and to meet Kevin's family. The church was in North Manchester, not far from the little town where Kevin grew up, Sidney. He was born in Wabash. I sort of wanted to play The Wabash Cannonball, one of my favorite American songs. I ended up playing Swing Low, Sweet Chariot as they brought him into the church, and Amazing Grace when they took him out. I'm not a religious person, but I love a lot of the hymns. Knowing the kind of music Kevin liked, I took a chance. Amazing Grace starts out as a reverie, but about half way through I turned it into a testifyin' footstomper. Using a looping device (very dangerous in a live situation, especially at a funeral!) I then put down a rhythm track, bass line, and started the sermon. Listening to it now I can still hear at which bar I glanced down from the balcony to see if the priest was going to cut the power. He was stunned, no doubt about it, but everyone in that place was moving to the music. Kevin's family and friends told me it's exactly what he would have wanted.
He was buried in a small cemetery next to an old church out in the middle of the country. In a pine box. At the graveside his brothers, father, friends and I shared cigars and a few shots of Jack Daniels. A nod to Kevin. You'll see them all in the photos, along with his mom, wife Pam, his beautiful nieces, close friend Sandra, the loyal young Carly who lived across the street and assisted in his studio. You'll see the studio, the brushes with the telltale bite marks, the palette. Some of the photos are difficult for me to look at, but I felt they are appropriate. I believe his family would agree. People live, people die, and we go on. If Amazing Grace was written for anyone, it was written for Kevin Slater. I loved the guy.
Kevin became an artist -- a "mouth painter." I have seen many physically handicapped artists who paint this way, but Kevin was different: he painted in watercolor. The vast majority of mouth painters work in oil, as it's too difficult to control a wet medium. I don't know how he did it. And he was really good. I tried to paint watercolor holding the brush in my mouth to see whats it's like, and it was impossible.
In 2004 we crossed paths on an art website where he was known as "Strider." Pretty soon we became friends, and I used to call him at his house in Indiana to talk about painting, music, and anything else that came to mind. I cherished those conversations, and always came away from them revitalized. He was into guitar music, and I sent him a CD of mine.
In 2007 he was approached by a company that offered to buy his paintings. Kevin would have an income, and part of the proceeds would go to a foundation that supports people in his situation. He was really excited about it, and so was I. Unfortunately, just as this was happening, he was afflicted with a serious lung ailment and ended up in the hospital. The next couple of months were a roller coaster of procedures, gains, setbacks, emotions, and ultimately, heartbreak. When I called him in his hospital room, he couldn't speak, only listen. It was my intention to travel to Elkhart to visit him, as some other friends did. Before I could do so, Kevin died on July 17.
I drove out there a few days later to play at the funeral, and to meet Kevin's family. The church was in North Manchester, not far from the little town where Kevin grew up, Sidney. He was born in Wabash. I sort of wanted to play The Wabash Cannonball, one of my favorite American songs. I ended up playing Swing Low, Sweet Chariot as they brought him into the church, and Amazing Grace when they took him out. I'm not a religious person, but I love a lot of the hymns. Knowing the kind of music Kevin liked, I took a chance. Amazing Grace starts out as a reverie, but about half way through I turned it into a testifyin' footstomper. Using a looping device (very dangerous in a live situation, especially at a funeral!) I then put down a rhythm track, bass line, and started the sermon. Listening to it now I can still hear at which bar I glanced down from the balcony to see if the priest was going to cut the power. He was stunned, no doubt about it, but everyone in that place was moving to the music. Kevin's family and friends told me it's exactly what he would have wanted.
He was buried in a small cemetery next to an old church out in the middle of the country. In a pine box. At the graveside his brothers, father, friends and I shared cigars and a few shots of Jack Daniels. A nod to Kevin. You'll see them all in the photos, along with his mom, wife Pam, his beautiful nieces, close friend Sandra, the loyal young Carly who lived across the street and assisted in his studio. You'll see the studio, the brushes with the telltale bite marks, the palette. Some of the photos are difficult for me to look at, but I felt they are appropriate. I believe his family would agree. People live, people die, and we go on. If Amazing Grace was written for anyone, it was written for Kevin Slater. I loved the guy.
Kevin Slater art on Zazzle.
